


absence makes the something or other

by orphan_account



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: BAMF!Hux, M/M, slow and steady does it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-06-01 18:40:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6531505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Knight of Ren is a legitimate position aboard the Finalizer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Uno

**Author's Note:**

> i dont want critiques or corrections or anything along those lines thank u i write these for fun not for literary fulfillment 
> 
> i decided i do multichapters best when theyre very short chapters so watch out for that

Brendol Hux had rarely taught his son anything. What need was there, when he had the best paid tutors in the system and access to the largest database on the planet? If Hux wasn't clever enough to search high and low for his answers, then he was no son of his. 

He did, however and almost by accident, instill in Hux a code of character to match his own. Brendol Hux influenced his son’s opinion on the military, religion, race, morality, and sexual orientation. In order of importance. Hux knew, due to a painful self-awareness bred from his father’s ruthless criticism, that at times the voice in his head was not his own. As a result, he'd sought to rebel from his father’s brand of philosophy in order to achieve independence. 

As per the universe’s cruel sense of humor more often than not Hux found himself agreeing with the scraps of wisdom his father had bothered to throw his way.

Hux's father believed that healthy competition was a myth fabricated to keep peasants and traders at each other's throats, while the rich and the educated took what was their birthright, trampling anyone in their way. Grappling for power a waste of time, even plainly undignified. Any and all expectations for himself or his son were to be met without delay. Therefore, Hux was oblivious to the so called  _ thrills _ of rivalry.

That was, of course, until he unfortunately met Kylo Ren. 

Which wasn't to say his exchanges with the man were by any means thrilling. Infuriating. Migraine-inducing. Such and such and so on. 

Hux had to admit he'd once been intrigued by the masked man. The Knight had the advantage of height, yet his shoulders were in a constant slump that was a mix of intimidating and pathetic. Much could be presumed about a man who felt no need to puff out his chest and make himself bigger than he already was. He was built like a gangly teen who had never grown into the awkward size of his limbs, yet he strode everywhere with the air of someone who was comfortable in his own skin. Kylo Ren’s persona was intended to impress, but all that mysterious aura was quickly crushed under the weight of Ren’s predictable and sincerely boring egotism. What Hux had seen as deliberately intimidating had simply been poor posture from years of standing in defense. That determination, that purpose in his walk? A byproduct of Kylo Ren’s juvenile single-mindedness. The novelty wore off the first time he rampaged through Hux’s ship, cutting open three of Hux's troopers and a stack of datapads containing sensitive information. 

(The three stormtroopers were assigned solely to sanitation and the data in those pads was due for purging. Hux held back from reporting the incident to the Supreme Leader and requesting Kylo Ren’s removal.) 

In a ship full of soldiers conditioned to perfection, Kylo Ren was the only thorn in his side. His very presence disrupted an entire room. Hux could not fault the man for having a personality, but did it have to be such a repugnant one? Phasma was spirited without triggering his disgust. Could Kylo Ren not take a page out of the woman’s book? 

Worst of all, did his fluctuating moods have to be so…  _ contagious _ ? The General couldn’t help but behave childishly around him. They battled for Snoke’s attention like two green boys desperate for validation, and because Hux lacked Ren’s genetic predisposition for parlor tricks, he always came second. Now Kylo Ren’s place aboard the ship felt like a challenge, and it was a challenge Hux was not going to lose. Brendol Hux’s teachings be damned. His father had not prepared him for the human tempest that was Snoke’s golden boy. 

Kylo Ren bled into everything he touched. Hux’s work, his behavior, his actions, his thoughts. Hux misused his strategist’s mind to stay one step ahead of Ren, even things as mundane as reputation around the  _ Finalizer _  or holochess .

And yes, Kylo Ren followed him even here, in the comfort of his own bathroom. 

Hux sank lower until his nose disappeared beneath the surface of the water. Baths were a waste of resources, but he’d not worked his way up the ranks of the First Order to subject himself to sonic showers. 


	2. Dos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Men love their posturing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok every time I see domnhalls face when kylo ren talks to hux I fucking laugh so hard because he looks like he's 10 seconds away from pummeling him in the fucking face helmet and all. rewatch it. I promise it's there.

The First Order was tasked with bringing  _ order  _ to the universe, and yet somehow Hux couldn't get a good night's sleep without the _Finalizer_ making a metaphorical pirouette off the deep end. An explosion on site of Starkiller base had sent a metal sheet flying, which had separated the chief engineer's head from his shoulders, leaving the remaining workers running about like Endorian chickens and in desperate need of guidance. The only thing the remaining engineers could tell Hux for sure was that this would mean a serious delay in Starkiller’s construction. 

To sweeten the pot, the troops he'd sent to the Ytron system to crush Resistance sympathizers had not reported back in 0800 hours and their comms were listed as disconnected but not out of order. Hux had spent all morning jumping from station to station, reassigning squadrons, and trying to find a single technician able to give him sound coordinates to his men's location. 

Around the time Hux’s morning had become a hectic blur, Ren decided to ambush him in the bridge. It was testament to how busy they were that no one in the bridge bothered to acknowledge Ren’s entrance by tensing all at once as they usually did. 

“General, we have much to discuss.” Kylo spoke, rudely interrupting Hux’s hushed conversation with one of his officers. Hux bristled visibly. His men were already on edge, managing to sweat in the cold vacuum of space. There was no place for Kylo Ren in an environment as delicate as this, where everyone was mere minutes away from losing it. 

“Another time, Lord Ren. I'm sure even someone with your observational skills can see I am terribly busy.” Hux responded, leaning over the officer to look at the flickering holoscreen.

Kylo scoffed. “This is much more important than cannon fodder lost in space.” 

The stress that had been curling loosely around him until now tightened all at once, and Hux felt the heat of his rage like a thousand needles under his skin. He breathed in a single shuddering breath and straightened slowly with his hands clasped together behind him. 

“Kylo Ren. Your request for a meeting with me has been duly noted, and I will be happy to concede at a later time, but as of right now,” Hux turns around to face the taller man, leveling Kylo with an icy stare that was sure to penetrate the imposing helmet. The General gathered all of his authority into his stance, until Kylo Ren's slumped shoulders seemed miles beneath him, and reinforced that foundation with each pointed word. “Leave. My. Bridge.”

It seemed everyone in the room had found the good sense to tense up now. The ever-present whirring of the ship and Kylo Ren’s augmented breathing through the helmet were the only sounds in the scant inches between their faces. Ren shortened that distance until Hux could see the dark of his eyes through the black lenses and felt the metal of the helmet brush against his nose light as a feather. 

Hux felt a cold drop of sweat trace his spine.  _ Maker preserve me _ , his mind provided him, trecherously. As if the barely trembling fingers curled into tight fists at his back weren't betrayal enough.

“Two hours, General.” Kylo said, leaning back as if their little game of posturing was over because the General had flinched.  _ No. _ There was simply no way Kylo had been able to pick up on that. “You have two hours to achieve that  _ order _ you are so fond of. No longer.” 

Right then, watching Kylo Ren stalk out of the room, with his men around him working hard to pretend the General had not just been humiliated in public by a rankless brat, Hux understood Ren’s tendency to destroy everything in his path from time to time. 

 


	3. Tres

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bros before hoes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this story should really be about phasma i like her better

Hux was no stranger to fear. After the disease that was the Galactic Concordance infested his system, he’d tasted fear in the Unknown Regions with training more arduous than the Academy’s had ever been. Hux had learned to fear many things then. Losing his cunning most of all, death a close second. Hux was determined to rule by fear, and to wield fear one had to understand it. 

He neither feared nor understood Kylo Ren. The two hour time limit he’d pinned on Hux that morning had been absolutely meaningless and the man must have known that. The General’s duties would not be rushed by a princeling with a helmet full of hot air. If anything he’d felt tempted to drag his feet only to spite the man, but Hux had already proved himself more mature than that. He was done four hours after their stand-off and not a moment sooner. Just in time to take his afternoon tea with the other officers. 

Phasma intercepted him on the way to the officer’s mess. 

“General.” She saluted him and Hux made a gesture to dismiss the formality. “We will be making use of the arena to stage a competition among the stormtroopers.  All officers have been invited to spectate. I thought to extend the invitation to you. It will surely raise morale among the ranks.” 

He  _ had _ thought the way to the mess hall had been oddly empty. Hux arched an eyebrow. “A competition? And what exactly brought this on?”

“May I be candid with you, General?” 

“By all means, Captain.” Hux said indulgently. 

“After the week we’ve had, I say we deserve to be entertained.” Phasma stood proudly and Hux could swear he could feel her smile radiating from inside that helmet. 

He gave the idea the consideration it deserved. His father had seen competition befitting of the lower class, and inside the  _ Finalizer  _ the stormtroopers were near the bottom of the food chain. The pressure on those poor stormtrooper’s minds would grow tenfold when Hux showed up to watch them spar, it could help him test just how well his men could perform under stress. With that in mind, he could allow himself to enjoy the show at no expense. 

“I accept.” He said plainly, and Phasma stepped out of his way. 

“After you, General.” She said, and the two began walking towards the arena. 

\---

Hux did not expect to see so many officers lounging amiably in the boxed area above the ring, but if his presence was expected then surely none of them could be here forfeiting their duties. He acknowledged them all with a nod of his head and they offered him the same courtesy, giving him a wide berth and sticking with the conversations they already had in place. 

Hux stepped up to the floor length, transparisteel windows and leaned against the railing there. Nothing made the General feel more powerful than looking down on the grayscale landscape that was the  _ Finalizer _ . He could feel the destroyer at his fingertips. The minute vibrations the stabilizer could not entirely be rid of, paired with hands that had lost their callouses in his years off the field, was a constant reassurance that his ship was alive and well. The light bouncing off the chrome gave the illusion that it stretched for miles on end, and it was all his. Below he could see figures clad in white, running through warm-up drills in preparation for the event. Watching the stormtroopers move in unison, each one perfectly in sync with the next, was more relaxing than a night at a pleasure house could hope to be. Hux closed his eyes and saw this paradise spread across the galaxy.

“Magnificent, aren’t they?” 

Hux turned to find Phasma had shed her helmet while he’d been busy fantasizing.

(He’d never been shocked by how beautiful she was under all that polished platinum. It had come as no surprise to him that a woman as magnificent as Phasma had features to match her splendor. Not that he’d ever share that thought. Phasma was his subordinate first, and his tentative friend second.)

“My father’s pride and joy.” Hux conceded. 

“When you put it in that perspective, General, I find myself in need to rescind my statement. They pale in comparison to your father’s greatest creation.” Phasma joined him at the railing, the wrinkles of a smile playing around her eyes but the rest of her as stern as it ever was. 

Coming from Phasma, Hux did not feel the usual wave of disgust that followed flattery sent in his direction. Phasma was a smart woman, fit for her station, but she was not politically inclined. She wasn’t flattering, she was speaking her mind, and Hux found it to be a very pleasant sound. 

“You’re not so bad yourself, Captain.” He joked.

Phasma harrumphed. “You might reconsider that in just a moment, General.” 

Of course it was too much to ask for a night of unconditional peace. “Alright, what trap have you sprung on me?”

“No trap at all.” She said, attempting to make light of it. “You should know I invited Lord Ren to join us today. That is, if he didn’t kill the messenger I sent to retrieve him.” 

The fact she saw fit to warn him meant she'd heard of Ren's outburst in the bridge. Hux didn’t have the strength in him to be angry. His Kylo Ren  _ rage reserve _ had been burned out in its entirety this morning, thank you very much. Instead he let out a sight like a weary traveler in for another long day of walking under the hot sun. In that metaphor, Kylo Ren was not to be stared directly at, and Hux would impale himself on his walking stick before sundown. 

“Goody.” He answered bitterly.

She was quick to assuage. Phasma called a server over and secured them twin glasses of the best liquor aboard. The alcohol was strong enough to put a hole in his windpipe, and if he was going to deal with Kylo Ren again today, he was going to need it.


	4. Quatro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the chapter where hux and kylo fight around a strip pole

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shit man i got no time for chapter summary me and my friend are gonna watch chicago  
> ignORE THE MISTAKES I HAVE A MOVIE TO WATCH CANT EDIT

Hux would later understand that it had been a strategic error to down as many drinks as he had. In the Unknown Regions he’d been taught measures to ward off addiction; alcoholism was a vice that no aspiring General should submit to. He’d been shown how to drink in moderation and to keep a sober mind without appearing impolite. 

It had been too easy to toss back glass after glass. The alcohol burned in his belly and slowed the ever-turning gears of his mind. Hux had been told that drink would make him sluggish and vulnerable, but he felt neither of those things as it ran hot through his veins. 

It made it easy to unwind. Pumped full of liquid joy Hux could lean into Phasma’s whispers as she pointed at the troop’s formations and singled out the best like a child picking out her favorite doll from the toybox. He could relate. The  _ Finalizer  _ was the First Order’s crown jewel and he was its keeper. Hux had long familiarized himself with the feeling that came from being in command of so many souls. 

Hux had access to the cameras in the stormtroopers training room. He was expected to delegate supervision of his troops to his officers and make his visits to the barracks scarce, but he couldn’t help himself. The holovid feed of those featureless faces going through their morning drills in perfect unison was a symphony, each stomped foot and saluting hand like a chord struck at the right time. It helped him concentrate in his work. The stormtroopers had no worries. They felt no anger. They felt no despair. They thrived on instruction. They accepted their place in the galaxy without question. 

Knowing that all those men and women had no thoughts of their own outside what directed their bodies to follow incited in him a sense of twisted comfort. 

“Would you be interested in something a little different, General?” Phasma asked. There was a flute of sparkling blue liquid in her hand, and she lagged several cups behind him.

“Define different, Captain.” Hux sobered at the sight of her glass almost full. Phasma could drink him under the table on a good day, and if she was showing restraint it was an sign that he should do the same.

“Where I hail from, arena sports are quite popular--”

“Fighting pits?” Hux scoffed. He caught on to what Phasma had in mind rather quickly. “You’d have my men grapple like sweaty barbarians under a Hutt’s thumb?” 

“No.” Phasma spoke tightly. “I’d have them prove to their superiors that they’re capable of being more than cannon fodder.”

Hux’s eyes narrowed. That was a twinge too romantic for the Order’s taste, and by the crease between Phasma’s brows as she struggled to remain firm, she knew that as well. Phasma had never given him any reason to doubt her loyalty, and there had been no calls for reconditioning in her record. He supposed she was allowed her fancies once in awhile without the Order crumbling at their feet. 

He eased the tension on her shoulders with a flick of his wrist. “Very well, Captain. Show me what secret worth you see in your troopers.” 

Phasma gave a sharp nod, and in their business that was as expressive as the grin the woman had surely concealed. 

“Come, General. Distance makes all the difference.” 

Phasma led him and the officers to the lower level of the arena, close enough that he could  _ just _ make out the identification numbers on the trooper’s chests. The plush black velvet seats were scarce and vastly outnumbered by the hard, metal chairs intended for the troopers to occupy during long assemblies, but given Hux’s rank he met no trouble as he sat down and the officers spread out behind him. Phasma left his side briefly to exchange a few words with a sergeant, no doubt to convey the plans she had shared with Hux. When she returned the took the seat to his left. Hux watched her lips twitch into a smirk as the stormtroopers shed their plating and he thought she was exactly where she belonged. 

Hux hadn’t known what to expect out of the ensuing fights, but admitted without shame that he’d been pleasantly surprised. 

Phasma had meticulously collected a variety of exotic weaponry from the contraband lockers in Sector 7. The rack to the right of the ring was full of staffs, nets, maces, javelins, and others that Hux could not name if his life was on the line, all so ornately decorated that he doubted their practicality. 

All but five stormtroopers vacated the ring. They sat across from their superiors, all of them equally stiff in the unfriendly chairs. Those remaining moved towards the weapon rack and they examined their options. Hux had expected blood in this endeavor but he could see now that the edges on all weapons had been filed blunt. Good. No need to turn his seating arrangements into a splash zone. 

The five stormtroopers stood side by side in front of him, weapons either rested on the ground or held upwards against their chests. They saluted with practiced diligence. Without their helmets Hux became acutely aware that all eyes were on him. This was Phasma’s show, but it was him they wanted to impress. He placed both his hands gingerly on the armrests and leaned back with a nod of his head that the stormtroopers took as their cue to begin. 

The floor split in front of the officer’s seats and out came a glass wall roughly three inches thick. It was no transparisteel, but it would do to stop any projectiles mistakenly sent their way. 

The stormtroopers did not wait for the wall to rise to its full height. Metal clashed against metal, followed by strained grunts, echoing loudly off the walls of the ship. One against one. Two against one. Hux’s eyes flicked from one group to the next. The General recognized movements from the standard training the troops underwent, but there was more to it than that. Hux cast another wary look at Phasma. What was this woman teaching his men? What danger was Phasma putting herself in?

And it  _ was  _ dangerous. There was too much individual thought in their actions. The clunky weapons that Hux had seen as little more than colorful children’s toys came alive in their hands. It was a display of skill and talent that wouldn’t have been out of place in the fantastical holovids featuring athletic metahumans Hux had watched sparingly as a boy. 

These were measured steps, careful choices. This was  _ strategy _ . 

A foot connected with a sternum and sent a trooper, skidding to the edge of the ring and nearly passing the disqualification line before he brought himself to his feet. He was a large man, but size was exactly his disadvantage. He wasn’t using enough brute force to balance the superior agility and speed of his opponents. 

With that stormtrooper’s fall, the balance shifted. 

He was lured to stand alone at the center of the ring, a longsword in each hand, while the four circled around him with deliberate slowness, like predators measuring the life left in their prey. The stormtrooper in the middle might have been taller and more thickly built than his sparring partners, but the odds still gave Hux pause. He chanced a glance at Phasma to ensure nothing was amiss, and found her entranced in the match with child-like giddiness painted across her face.

Hux let out a noise of protest that he quickly stifled behind a cough and a handkerchief Phasma produced out of her pocket. It would not do for a General of the First Order to excite over a couple stormtroopers having it out on the arena floor. It would not do at all. 

The prey breathed or twitched the wrong way and the four were upon him in an instant, too coordinated in their assault for chance to have lead to this. They had calculated that one of their opponents was too big and too strong for any of them to take out one on one, so they’d all turned against him. 

There was beauty in watching someone so physically imposing get taken down with such ease. He’d tried to defend himself, oh he had, but in the end all that was left was his knocked out body lying on the arena floor and four troopers ready to turn on each other as quickly as they’d formed an alliance. 

“General!” 

It took all of Hux’s twenty five years of careful behavioral conditioning instilled in him by his father and the academy not to shoot up and out of his chair. Kylo Ren walked-- no,  _ stomped _ \--down the stairs. The stormtroopers’ confidence had evaporated into thin air, and they stood in the ring, eyes hovering over Hux and Ren as if they couldn’t decide who they were more afraid of. 

“You were to meet me in two hours time, General. We had an agreement.” 

Hux never knew if his voice was eerily calm naturally, or if it was some trick of his helmet. Technology was quite advanced, it could be either one, even if it was highly unlikely Ren was any semblance of calm under there. 

One display of disrespect he had been willingly to allow, but two in front of an audience of his troopers and peers? Hux would tear this petulant  _ child  _ apart. 

Hux rolled his shoulders beneath his greatcoat, he adjusted his gloves against his wrists, let his fingers stretch comfortably in the stiff fabric. He focused his eyes behind Ren, as if there was something more interesting in the crowd of immobile troopers than in the Knight. 

“No, you imagined an agreement and I found myself in too gratuitous a mood to deny you the delusion. Now if you don’t mind, I am trying to watch.” 

Ren followed Hux’s line of sight to the troopers, turning so suddenly that the four took a cautious step back. Pathetic. If Hux wasn’t preoccupied with Ren he would infix that fear in them himself. Four perfectly good troopers, off to reconditioning as soon as they were done there. Ren ruined everything he touched.

“This is what it takes to gain your attention?” Ren’s voice dripped with disdain. He looked down on Hux with the same contempt he’d shown in the morning. “Prancing about in tights, performing arbitrary tests of strength?”

Ren’s hand reached behind himself and the unconscious trooper was in the air, limbs hanging limply and throat bare. 

“I will show you  _ strength _ .” 

Kylo Ren threw the stormtrooper halfway across the arena, his body stopped only by an arch that neatly snapped his spine. He hung there, bones jutting out in awkward directions, and awaited retrieval. 

As expected of their training, no one reacted. Hux appeared more bored now than ever, and that only infuriated Ren further. 

Ren disappeared the way he came, but Hux did not entertain any ideas that he would  not return. Oh, no. The Knight would not leave things as they were. In the meantime, Hux ran damage control. He beckoned some troopers forward and had them dispose of the unsightly body hanging on the arch. 

The man’s return was unmistakeable. The screech of metal and the solid  _ thunk  _ counting every step Kylo took down the stairs was too much for Hux’s curiosity. 

“Ren, put the pipe down.” Hux heard himself use the same tone of voice his father had when scolding him. 

The pipe in Ren’s hand was curious, but it was by far the least shocking thing about his reentrance. Somewhere along the way Ren had lost his tunic. He’d thought Ren’s long sleeves met in some form of undershirt beneath it, and he could have not been more wrong. Ren’s sleeves ended at his shoulders, where they connected to the fabric that hugged his neck tight until it kissed his jawline. 

His chest was bare from the collarbone down. 

His muscles were chiseled, taut and strong. The slightest shift in his stance caused the straps at his collar to chafe his skin, and the flush there spread in blotches. When he breathed, his chest moved like the ocean on a summer’s day, slow as to not disturb the surface. The beauty marks scattered across his torso like constellations meant he could not be compared to the sleek marble statues of forgotten gods that had decorated the Unknown Regions. Kylo Ren would continue to defy any standard, including those that would mark him as the perfect human specimen. 

Had Hux been aware that the Jedi had their share of mind tricks when it came to perception of the physical, he’d have accused Ren of abusing them. Black was slimming, but it could not have hidden all of  _ this _ so easily. 

If Ren noticed that Hux was no longer meeting his eyes he didn’t mention it. 

“Do you trust so little in your men that you think four stormtroopers cannot hold their own against a Knight of Ren?” He mocked. Ren lifted the pipe off the floor and brought it down against his other hand as if to prove the weight of it was nothing to him.

Right. Back to their argument. 

The Knight would not back down whether Hux gave him permission to proceed or not, so it was best he acted under the pretense that he was not defying him. 

“It’s for sport, Ren. All may participate.” Hux said blandly. He would not give the man the pleasure of his interest. 

Ren huffed, unconvinced by Hux’s self restraint. Hux did not need to get riled up, Ren did a perfectly good job of that for them both. Ren strode towards the ring, pipe in hand, and there was some confusion on the trooper’s part on whether they were all expected to remain or not, something that by the tilt of Ren’s head had been quickly rectified by the Force. 

“Begin.” The order made him feel in control again.

It was, in summary, a slaughter. Hux watched Ren fight, and he watched his men fail. 

Kylo Ren was everything their last opponent had been, but he did all the right things. He allowed the stormtroopers to lead him into their traps, and then dismantled them one bash at a time. Every blow was brutal and relied heavily on Kylo’s reflexes. The man’s parry was a mockery to the word when all the blocking he was doing had to do with sending his opponent’s weapons flying out of their hands with the force of his swing. The Knight’s best defense was his offense, he’d take a hit, and he’d retaliate with twice the weight. 

And Hux. Hux was...

He was entranced by Ren’s every maneuver, his mind took him in frame by frame and deconstructed it. He had watched Jedi fight before, in holovids, and they moved with the fluidity of water dancers, so light on their feet they seemed to stand on their tiptoes. But Kylo was something else. Kylo moved like a hammer pounding nails, like the beat of a drum, like a hurricane ransacking everything in its path. 

He saw nothing of Ren’s opponents except when the pipe impacted against them, and when they fell to the ground. They were  _ idiots _ , the lot of them. They struck him hard and fast in an effort to tire him out, but Hux could see that all of them would sooner die from exhaustion than deplete Ren’s stamina. They exerted themselves putting unsteadying amounts of force to cause Ren pain, but Hux watched him lean into a blow he could have easily dodged. It seemed pain would only spur him on.  _ Evade, you fools. Aim to disable. At his joints, at his head.  _

Everything but Ren dialed down to white noise. Hux hardly had the presence of mind to blink. 

He was addled by alcohol, shaken by adrenaline, and too caught up in his own game of strategizing against Ren’s attacks to realize he’d left fortress of his mind ripe for the taking. Ren brought the pipe across the last stormtrooper’s face and held his hand towards Hux in the same motion. He tugged on the edges of Hux’s consciousness like a loose thread and  _ pulled  _ until his mind unraveled.    
  


Ren had been vying his time to get inside his head all along. With the last stormtrooper on the ground, his attention shifted fully to Hux and sent the General’s head hard against the back of his thankfully plush chair. 

“You sit there tugging the strings. A puppeteer, too good to put himself on display.” Ren’s voice echoed in his head and nauseated him. Had Hux had control over his body he’d have leant forward and thrown up the contents of his stomach at the cold feeling.  “ **_Show me_ ** _ , Hux.  _ **_Show me_ ** _ you deserve this. _ ” 

He hadn’t known the Force would feel like this. It was a catalyst that ignited every repressed bout of hatred he felt towards Ren and brought it forward to become his number one priority. He couldn’t remember a time where he’d wanted something more than he wanted to beat Ren with his bare hands. 

Hux stood, yet had no recollection of telling his body to do so. He shook off his greatcoat onto his chair and threw both his gloves over it with a violence that was unlike him. He moved towards the stairs leading down to the field and Phasma grabbed his arm hard at the wrist. She blocked his way, bewilderment in her eyes. Hux felt a flicker of  _ something  _ inside him at the sight of her, something that asked  _ What are you doing, Hux? This isn’t you.  _ The thought was smothered as soon as it arose.

“General Hux.” Phasma called, voice laced with concern, and then she whispered. “ _ Leon? _ ”

The sound of his first name should have shocked him out of his trance but instead Hux felt nothing as he pushed past her.

“Stand aside, Captain.” Hux’s tongue moved around the words without his say. 

As he approached the Knight, Ren’s breathing became too loud in a way it had not been when fighting four heavily armed stormtroopers. Watching Hux come down the stairs was more exhilarating than smashing their brains to pulp.

Ren retreated from his mind after Hux took the final step onto the arena. It felt like someone had pulled a burlap sack off his head. Anger boiled hot in the pit of Hux’s stomach, and all the rage the Force had fanned in him had not let up even with the Knight out of his mind. All eyes were on the pair of them, and Hux could not back down without appearing weak. 

If Ren wanted Hux to wipe the floor with him, Hux was happy to comply. 

The decision to unbutton his jacket and strip down to his undershirt was all Hux’s. Under any other circumstances he would have been disgusted with himself, leaving his clothes on the sweat-slicked floor without pause, but he was ready to lower himself to Ren’s level, propriety be damned. 

Stormtroopers dragged away their fallen comrades’ bodies without having to be told. Hux suspected that was another of Ren’s tricks, as the stormtroopers in the sidelines seemed to be frozen in time by look on their faces. 

Hux would not make the mistakes of those before him. The simulators in the Unknown regions had given him his enemy’s stats before every combat session, but Hux had long learned to assess his opponent with a discreet once over. Kylo Ren was taller, wider, heavier, and more experienced in battle. He was fast, but his movements lacked grace. Hux would never unbalance him when standing still, but it would be child’s play to knock him on the ground once he left the balls of his feet. 

Hux needed a weapon to keep him at a distance, but strong enough to stop the pipe in Ren’s hand from disarming him. 

Hux extended his hand towards the weapons rack where a trooper stands. 

“Quarterstaff.” He chose. 

He tested its weight in his hand. Solid steel, longer and heavier than Ren’s pipe. People were not wrong to think that Hux did not spend as much time in the gym as he should, but that didn’t mean he struggled with the staff. Paired with Hux’s mind, it would serve its purpose. 

Ren watched him intently from across the field, and Hux gave to the temptation of showing off. He twirled the quarterstaff in his hand, effortless sweeping movements that ended with the staff rested against the small of Hux’s back and along the bottom of his forearm. Murmurs of appreciation spread amongst the onlookers. 

“It isn’t my standard weapon of choice.” He admitted, smugly. 

Ren nodded solemnly. “Yes, I hear cowards prefer poison.” 

The warmth that had softened the corners of Hux’s eyes after his display vanished, and his eyes were shards of ice again. There would be no more banter between them, Ren would not enjoy this fight. 

Hux did not attack first. He walked shapes around the man until Ren became appropriately infuriated by his inaction. Unlike Ren’s previous opponents, he understood Ren’s biggest weakness was his utter lack of patience. If Hux had ever been good at anything it was playing the waiting game.

As it turned out, he didn’t have to wait very long. Ren bolted at him after his second time making his rounds about the Knight.

They played a game of cat and mouse. Ren lunged and Hux dodged. The Knight cursed in some unknown language, and knowing Kylo Ren he was possibly pitching guesses towards Hux’s parentage and sexual orientation. It was pitiable, the way Ren’s previously measured steps came undone when the avalanche of his emotions got in the way. That his voice still sounded calm in its way out of the modulator was disturbing, but Hux was too focused in thoroughly humiliating the man to care. 

When Ren stepped forward Hux hit him where it hurt, but most importantly he hit him where it  _ mattered _ . One clean smack to his elbow, to the hip, to the sternum. One hit to his head so strong Hux could almost see the Knight’s brain rattling inside his helmet.

Hux saw an opening and took it. Kylo raised his pipe to block a hit that never came as Hux merely tapped his weapon to distract him with the sound. Ren shook his head like a mad, dizzied dog. Hux swiveled around him and drove the point of his staff into Ren’s bare side, knocking the air out of the taller man all at once before putting considerable distance between them. The Knight turned with a scream so distorted by his helmet it sent chills down Hux’s back. He ran at the redhead, both hands wrapped tightly around the pipe with the promise of agony, and Hux merely sidestepped at the last second, pushing his staff into the back of Ren’s knee with all his might when the man swung past him. 

Ren stumbled, grabbing the back of his leg with one hand and using the pipe with the other to steady himself before he fell face first into the ground, but it wasn’t enough to keep his knees from smacking painfully into the metal.  

Hux walked beside the panting Knight, the quarterstaff scraped against the metal as the pipe had. The balance, once against, shifted. The General inhaled deeply to steady his chest and addressed their audience at last. 

“Let this serve as a warning. What you see before you,” He began, extending his hand towards Kylo Ren. “Is a man of unmatchable strength. A formidable man. And yet! He is chaos personified.” 

He raised his quarterstaff and pressed the end of it beneath Ren’s helmet, lifting his head.

“Strength is nothing without Order.” 

His chest swelled with pride. He’d gone too long without the pleasant ache of a good fight burning in his muscles. Hux held his ground against Ren on the verbal, but he’d never entertained the idea that he might hold his own against the man in combat with nothing but his wit and a steel rod. It was downright--

Ren roared. He turned on one knee and hooked his hand around Hux’s leg, shoulder impacting against the General’s, he lifted him clean off the ground and rushed them both against the glass wall. Hux’s mouth opened in a silent shout as his head bounced off the wall with a very audible smack. The redhead stuck the quarterstaff between their bodies and pushed it against the Knight’s neck. Hux’s saltlicked skin screeched along the glass as Kylo Ren was forced off, his arm around Hux’s leg and Hux’s own uncomfortable position the only thing keeping him from falling to the ground.

Hux’s quarterstaff caught against the bottom of Ren’s helmet and fell into place like a puzzle. It was not his strategist mind that led Hux drive the staff upward, but an animalistic urge to cause the other man pain. Hux pushed until he heard Ren’s screams in a man’s voice, not a machine’s, as the inside of the helmet drew grooves on his cheeks. 

There was poetry in the fact that whenever Hux imagined hearing Ren’s real voice for the first time, he envisioned screams. 

Ren reached with one hand to undo the latches at either side of his helmet and shook the thing off with a hiss; it fell to the ground, denting the metal below. 

A flurry of black hair and pale skin later, and Hux’s grip on the quarterstaff against the Knight’s neck faltered. Ren’s face contorted into a grimace that looked both painful and terrifying. His features were so unconventional, so unexpected. Of course he’d considered the possibility the helmet was little else than an intimidation tactic, and not something Ren actually needed but-- 

He hadn’t expected the man to be  _ beautiful _ . 

Yet another moment of weakness that did not go unpunished. Ren recoiled and dragged Hux’s body along for the ride. 

 

Hux felt his head crack against the ground and then: darkness. 


	5. Cinco

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux wakes after his encounter with Ren, and overreacts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ignore typos as always. i'd like to thank everyone that has commented on this fic, everyone who reblogged my art on tumblr, and anyone whos still bothering to read this shit. 
> 
> i like fleshing out hux and phasma's relationship, if you hadnt noticed. youll learn to love it too.

Hux woke to a world as dark as he’d left it. 

His mouth tasted like someone had given up on sterilizing it each time he vomited. The bitterness of bile burned at the back of his throat and lodged itself in his windpipe and made every attempt to swallow a chore. The pain at the back of his head drowned out every other sensation and was surely the conductor of the orchestra of whistles and shrieks playing in his left ear. It was a tenderness, a hypersensitivity, that consumed his every thought and made it next to impossible to figure out where his arms and legs where in the darkness. 

“He’s awake. Why is he awake?” Phasma’s disembodied voice demanded. 

“Phasma,” Hux meant to call out but heard his voice come to him as a whisper. His brain provided options to categorize his tone under.  _ Hoarse. Cracked. Delirious.  _

“I am sorry, Captain. The General’s body is resisting the sedatives-- This much should have served for a man of his build but it isn’t--”

A loud crash, like equipment being slapped to the ground.. “Then find something that  _ will _ !”

The nick of a hypodermic needle barely registered. It would have gone unnoticed had Hux’s chest not so violently expanded on the next inhale. He’d not noticed he had been hyperventilating either. His headache dulled from levels nearing neurogenic shock to a manageable torture. 

It was not necessary for Hux’s brain to be fully functionable to figure out what had happened. 

“Kylo Ren is responsible for this.” Hux gasped at the darkness. His hands gripped aimlessly until his fingers closed over cold metal.  _ Ren’s helmet. The quarterstaff.  _ **_No_ ** _ \--  _ The railing of a bed in the sick bay. 

Ren’s beating had sent him to the sick bay. Where the walls were cloth and privacy was a myth. Where everyone could see the General had been toppled by a man who destroyed private property because it stood still long enough. 

“Bring him to me.” Hux spat viciously. “Phasma! Bring me his head! I will not rest, nor eat, nor  _ breathe _ , until I feel his skull crack in my bare hands!” 

Hux only knew he’d sat up because bile was no longer an aftertaste, but a very present thing he almost choked on in his hysterics. 

“If these stress levels continue he will seize.” Someone spoke, calmly, and it only served to enrage Hux. Training be damned. Hux was someone that should make them quake with fear.  

“Leon, stop!” The unmistakeable weight of Phasma’s hands forced him back on the bed, pinning his shoulders down. 

Hux’s eyes stung. Whatever had been in that needle negated his ability to breathe fast enough to make up for the speed his heart was beating at. He was caught between the indomitable urge to scream and the dry hiccups that kept him quiet. He clutched at Phasma’s arms, raking his nails across skin and cloth alike as he tried to fight her off. Like a stream brushing against a dam, for all the good it did him.

Phasma held firm and eventually Hux stopped struggling. 

His voice came to him in elongated hums, mumbles, and hacking coughs that made him more wounded beast than man. 

“Leon, stop.” Phasma repeated. She released one of his shoulders and held his hand against the curve of her wrist, where he could hear her heartbeat pounding hard to match his own. Gradually, they slowed; together. 

“Phasma.” He asked, and he heard everything of General Hux in the single word, and nothing of the pitiful creature lying in the sick bay, with his best Captain holding it down because it could not be trusted not to hurt itself. And yet, the creature still managed to ask: “Why can’t I  _ see _ ?”

Her hand tightened around his, and their heartbeats fell out of synch. “Put him under. Now.”

The darkness remained, this time without the burden of consciousness. 


	6. Seis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux wakes up to an unexpected visitor.

Hux stirred to the sound of hushed voices. His unconscious state had done his body good. The pain in his head had become a memory to repress at a later date. His arms were heavy weights at his side and his skin was soft with a long sleep. He’d been out cold for hours, and there was a wetness around his eyes that he’d first attributed to tears, bitterly, but recanted as the touch of a moist towelette responsible for the lack of sand in his eyes. 

“General Hux is not in critical condition, and he will be released upon his waking and prescribed an insignificant amount of medication until symptoms subside. Your presence is not required.”

He opened his eyes with little difficulty but much reluctance and was greeted with the blessed sight of colors. Not blind, then. Still, he struggled to distinguish shapes and find the edges where one color ended and another begun, all things blending into an unseeming mixture resembling used watercolors. 

“His screams could be heard outside the door yesterday afternoon, Captain. I could imply in my report to Supreme Leader Snoke that I question his mental stability-- or that I thought his recovery was quick and efficient. It is your choice.”

Those voices. Like buzzsaws on steel. The ringing in his ears had stopped, but it would not be long now before it returned.  The lights were turned to 40% and they remained an unbearable burn against his retinas. Hux moaned and crossed one arm over his eyes. The blotches of platinum and black at the foot of his bed froze. 

“Lord Ren, he will become agitated.”

“We will see.”

The awareness that had eluded him in his drowsiness surfaced sharply. Ren was there. Ren was there and he was talking to Phasma. 

The medically-induced sleep had suffocated the gut-wrenching hatred inside him that demanded satisfaction. The lapse of time and the disgust he felt towards the crazed creature Ren had made him into deterred him from lashing out against the man where he stood. Yesterday he’d been a forest fire out of control. Today where fire had been, embers remained, no doubt to be rekindled on a later date. Hux was a strategist, and he worked best with a cool head. 

He gripped the railing of the bed to help hoist himself up. 

“General, perhaps it’d be best if you--”

“Thank you, Captain Phasma.” He said in what he hoped was her general direction. “That will be all.” 

He imagined he heard her jaw snap shut indignantly. She hesitated to obey, casting a glance at Ren’s figure beside her, but she thankfully remembered her place and left the room with a parting salute that he could only discern by the marked click of her heels. 

She would be cross with him, but she would not be in Ren’s way, at least. This was a game Hux knew all too well. Predator had become prey, and Ren scented blood in the water. He was weak, vulnerable, lying in a hospital bed in nothing but a gown and-- no, now that he realized, a gown was all there was. Hux made sure the ugly thing stayed well past his knees as he moved around. He would prove to Ren that he was capable of standing and meeting his eyes. He would not be mocked.

Hux finished sitting up unassisted. He felt for the button that would lower the railing so there would be no awkward attempts to climb over it. His legs proved uncooperative to his commands, and he was forced to manually swing them over the side of the bed. Ren hovered around him, the blurry, barely visible picture of amusement. Hux’s knees trembled under the weight of his body in a way that had nothing to do with his head injury. The General was no warrior, he had no experience in the field. His fight with Ren had taken its toll. 

(His experience in war was entirely theoretical, built on the back of highly advanced simulators and hard study. He’d learned the quarterstaff on a whim, and had become skilled at it by chance.)

Aware Ren could be inviting himself to his thoughts, Hux discarded them briskly. He crossed his hands behind his back and thought of himself standing on the bridge, empowered by his station. 

“Your willpower is nearly as strong as your ignorance, General.” Ren commented idly. He moved to stand in Hux’s line of sight, a small kindness that Hux instantly hated him for. 

“What have you come to discuss, Lord Ren?” Hux asked, schooling his face into stoicism. 

Ren took an instant too long to reply, and Hux shifted uncomfortably in his stance. It was already unsettling to be unable to make out anything but Ren’s silhouette against a stark grey background, he could use not being mortified by silence as well. 

“Is it beyond you to entertain the thought I might simply be checking on you?” He said, sounding more curious than sarcastic. 

Hux faltered. Ren had a gift for catching him off guard, leaving him speechless. He mouthed words he could give no sounds to before reigning in his juvenile fumbling. It all transpired in a few fast seconds, but to Hux’s pride it had already been too long. 

“I imagine it is beyond anyone’s.” He replied as smoothly as he could. 

Another pregnant pause. Ren’s eyes burned like a brand. 

“Very well.” The Knight finally relented. “I had come to extend Snoke’s summons to you, but I had not yet seen the state you’re in.”

“I assure you I am by no means incapable of attending to the meeting.” He answered too quickly. His lips pressed together thinly to keep off a much more appropriate scowl. 

Ren tilted his head as he was wont to do when he believed Hux was being unreasonable. It was a familiar enough motion that even Hux’s weakened sight could pick up on it. “You can barely stand.” 

Hux’s vision flashed red and he snarled.

“That is not--”

He’d not made it through the beginning of his protest before something shoved hard against his chest. The world spun back into watercolors, and Hux was still too sluggish to reach back and stop himself from falling. He’d not seen Ren move, and yet there he was, sprawled out across the bed with the world spiraling before his eyes. He heaved once, coughing so hard his nose burned. 

Through the haze of bitter denial, Hux knew Ren-- or the Force, he supposed-- had barely touched him. 

Ren harrumphed condescendingly. 

“That will be all, General.” He slid towards the door like a robed specter, and Hux fought the desire to spit at him, because with his luck: he’d miss. 

Ren stopped with one hand on the door and looked over his shoulder. He raised his free hand and twisted it in the air at the same time that Hux felt his hips rise off the bed and his gown slide back down over his waist. Following the split second it took him to realize what had just happened, Hux made a low, humiliated sound. He curled into himself bunching the excess fabric over his thighs and shooting Ren a vicious look,  _ daring  _ him to say anything. 

Ren tilted his head in that comical way again, and then he was gone. 

Ren was not in charge here. He’d attend that meeting with Snoke if he had to crawl there. 

Hux very carefully folded his legs to fit into his robe and lied down on his side, tugging the sheets over the ball he’d made of his body. With his arms wrapped around himself, he buried his face in his knees and waited for the heat of anger, embarrassment, and something unfamiliar to subside. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I or am i not the queen of anticlimactic shifts lol


End file.
